


give me touch

by rudderless in an ocean of stars (indelibly_ellie)



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F, Feels, Introspection, Kara Danvers is Not Okay, Kara spent 24 years, Lena Luthor is Not Okay, Mental Breakdown, Mental Instability, Past Child Abuse, SuperCorp, What Have I Done, but that's fine, do we really think she's okay, i think the fuck not, i'll see myself to the corner of shame now, im crying, in the Phantom Zone, they can put each other back together
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2016-11-27
Packaged: 2018-09-02 12:33:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8667829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indelibly_ellie/pseuds/rudderless%20in%20an%20ocean%20of%20stars
Summary: Touch. Kara needs it.Lena hates it. A look into why they turned out this way.officially expanding into a multi-chap | Chapter 3 is UP!





	1. i. between desire and desperation

**Author's Note:**

> An anonymous fic request led me to this tumblr post: http://randomthingsthatilike.com/post/152671540912/ok-as-much-as-i-want-all-the-sin-with-lena-and
> 
> While I don't write sin (yet), I realized I had a few rough ideas centered around touch gathering dust in my computer, so one angst-filled three-shot story later, here we are. 
> 
> (Did I say three-shot? Never mind. It's spiraled from there.)

Kara has always been an openly affectionate person.

 

On Krypton, she sought her mother's gentle embrace, delighted in her father's sturdy strength as he lifted her into the air, gleefully returned Astra's crushing hugs.

 

When her planet is lost to her and the shockwave sends her pod spinning off into the bitter, frigid arms of a place where time does not pass and the last thoughts in your mind as you enter cycle endlessly through your brain, she knows no warmth for twenty-four years, knows no grip but the one around her heart as Krypton's last moments are replayed inside her head for a small measure of infinity that- try as she might- she cannot forget.

 

When she lands, when she is found by a grown man who tells her that he is the cousin she was meant to raise, meant to safeguard, meant to teach the ways of Krypton-

 

_they are the last, they are the last, they are the last_

 

-he is all grown up with no need of a protector.

 

No need of _her_.

 

She is there, finally, as her parents had intended, but she is a lifetime too _late_.

 

She swallows her shock, swallows her pain- after twenty-four years of silent screaming, she is used to the constant ache in her chest, the throbbing wound that has been reopened countless times in a void of timeless torment. At least she is free of the Phantom Zone, safe on this new planet with its young, yellow sun. She is glad of this- had she been forced to endure the sight of a red sun every time she gazed upon the sky, she is not sure how long she would have survived on Earth.

 

(She seeks his embrace too, the one person on this planet who could survive the full strength of her hugs, but he abandons her to another family- a fragile, breakable, _human_ family whom she grows to love with all her heart despite the fact that she will never be able to hold them quite as _tightly_ as she would like to.)

 

On Earth she seeks the warmth of Alex's arms, the tight grip of J'onn's hands as he squeezes her fingers to let her know that she is not _alone_ , the casual touches she exchanges with her other friends, coworkers, and various acquaintances.

 

They steady her, ground her, keep her mind out of the abyss of the time she'd lost in the Phantom Zone.

 

Kara has always been an openly affectionate person.

 

Krypton's death does not change that.

 

What does change, however, are her _reasons_.

 

On Krypton she sought touch for comfort, for joy, for love. It was a mindless habit, one formed out of want rather than necessity.

 

That changes on Earth. Desire becomes _desperation_ , and she finds herself seeking contact for sanity, for stability, for something to anchor her to this world and keep her from being dragged back inside of herself, back to the place between her ribs where she is broken beyond repair, the space where the Phantom Zone has made a home for itself all those years ago.

 

It calls to her, even now, sends her running, running, _running_ - to _Alex_ , to _J'onn_ , to _Eliza_ , to _Winn_ -

 

but-

 

how long can she run from _herself_?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a review, house a displaced alien from a dead planet.


	2. ii. starve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Reader Discretion Advised.

Lena Luthor doesn't like to be touched.

 

She doesn't want it, doesn't need it, doesn't _enjoy_ it.

 

Like almost every other problem in her life- from obsessive-compulsive tendencies and self-loathing to the crippling anxiety that she'll never be good enough to be judged on her own merit alone, just _Lena_ , not Luthor- it's something that stems from her childhood.

 

* * *

 

By all accounts, she should be grateful for the Luthors. They give her pretty clothes, pretty toys, a pretty room in their pretty house.

 

But that is where the _pretty_ stops.

 

It takes Lena a shamefully long time to realize that she is just another _pretty_ thing to display at their lavish parties, a new piece in their game.

 

Every word, every look, every touch, all of it designed to pull Lena into compliance with their own agendas. They barely acknowledge her when they feel she disappoints them, shower her with praise when she excels. Toy with her emotions until she is eager to please, desperate for the attention they so rarely see fit to dish out.

 

Years of emotional manipulation take their toll on the little girl with bright eyes and a bright smile.

 

Doubt becomes Lena's constant companion as she carefully learns her way around the Luthor household.

 

* * *

 

The designer dress left on her bed for the wedding of her father's business associate is a size too small. _It must be a mistake_ , Lena thinks, as she sets the bundle of silk and chiffon back down onto the plush mattress. 

 

Her mother's sharp smile at dinner tells her otherwise. Lena looks down at her plate and its meager portions and tries her best not to _break_ , knuckles whitening beneath the table as her fingers tighten around the napkin spread across her lap.

 

_Lillian Luthor doesn't make mistakes._

 

Tears prick at the corners of her eyes, and through a hazy film of tears that Lena will not shed- not here, not in front of _her_ \- she makes out the sight of _mutiny_ on Lex's face. She won't have him fight for her- not again. She won't have him hurt on her behalf.

 

It's not worth it.

 

A tiny, niggling voice inside her head asks if _she's_ worth it. 

 

She finds she has no response.

 

So Lena pushes her plate away and stands, muttering a barely intelligible excuse as she flees to her bathroom mirror to scrutinize every inch of the body she will eventually learn to critique as though it weren't her own.

 

  
_Beautiful_ , her mother says, barely a month later, nails digging into Lena's shoulders as she stands behind her in front of the full-size mirror in her room, wearing the dress that now fits her like a glove.

 

Beautiful.

 

Nothing is without meaning, not here, and Lena learns that lesson well.

 

Her father's hugs, given sparingly and always with reason, begin to repulse her. Her mother's quiet admonishments and loaded touches only serve to fuel the paranoia that haunts her waking moments.

 

Lena learns to distance herself eventually, to shrug off the physical contact until they stop giving it, returns her mother's stares with matching glares, fights tooth and nail to escape the shell of the girl they try and mold her into becoming.

 

But the damage is already done, and Lena Luthor grows up to despise touch in all forms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a review, house a displaced alien from a dead planet.


	3. iii. the aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I know I said three-shot, but... Well, it might be a little longer than that. I was editing and... This happened. Apologies in advance.
> 
> Post 2x07

Jeremiah is alive.

 

Jeremiah is _alive_ and Kara is _human_ and _is this what is feels like to drown?_

 

For once in her life, Alex's touch _burns_ her- how can she look her sister in the eyes after leaving him there? After leaving him in that awful place full of awful screams that will haunt Kara's nightmares for weeks on end?

 

So she runs. She is human, she is frail, she is _bleeding_ , (she has bled and she does not know how much blood they took but it is enough to make her head _spin_ in the same sickening manner as it spun when her pod was knocked off course and she was thrown into the icy grip of the Phantom Zone).

 

She is _weak_ , but she runs because she has no other choice- she has to get away.

 

Away from Alex and her understanding eyes- how can she be _understanding_ when Jeremiah has been lost _again_? When what might possibly be Jeremiah's last embrace was given to the _wrong_ daughter?

 

Away from J'onn and his knowing gaze- she is human now, so her thoughts are open to him, and though she is sure that he'll never pry, the sheer weight of her sadness becomes something almost _tangible_ , and she would be surprised if he _couldn't_ sense it.

 

Away from Mon-El and the remembrance of the cold of their adjoining cells and her fragile laughter as she begged him to lie to her sister and tell her that she was _unafraid_.

 

Kara runs- and before she even has a place in mind to run to, she is there, standing on shaky legs in Lena's office and dripping rainwater on plush carpeting as she struggles for breath in the face of the other woman's kryptonite eyes.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Lena Luthor still hates touch- but she has learned to tolerate it. From simple handshakes and customary hugs between business associates to smaller things, like the brush of fingers as she accepts her coffee from the cashier- she has learned to accept these simple touches without flinching. 

 

It has taken her thousands of dollars and hundreds of hours spent on the plush couch on her therapist to even get that far, and it's an improvement, to say the least, from the way she used to recoil at the thought of initiating contact.

 

It's a constant struggle, one that's always lingering in the back of her mind like a disease, festering, growing, filling her thoughts with doubt and fear. Touch has been used to control Lena for most of her life, and she'll be damned if she falls prey to that kind of emotional manipulation again.

 

Lena constantly works to push away the paranoid thoughts, to remind herself that not everyone was like the Luthors, that not everyone put so much thought into the repercussions of physical contact-

 

and then there is Kara.

 

Kara, the first person whose touch Lena finds she doesn't just tolerate.

 

Kara, the first person who smiles at Lena as though she isn't the sister of a notorious mass murderer responsible for the deaths of hundreds of innocent people.

 

Kara, who looks seconds away from collapse as she stands in front of Lena's desk, soaking wet and shivering, eyes wide and sad and _aching_ -

 

Lena doesn't even have to think- doesn't have to steel herself at the thought of physical contact- before she is up and out of her chair and holding the blonde-haired woman in her arms as she leads them both to the couch.

 

Kara is almost weightless, and for a second, a brief thought flashes in Lena's mind as she wonders at the weight of Kara's bones, wonders _if they are as hollow as a bird's-_

 

Then she catches a glimpse of the darkening bruises littering the other woman's skin, the trickle of blood hastily wiped away from the corner of her mouth, and everything falls into place.

 

She has never known Kara to be injured before.

 

Lena lifts and a hand and reaches for Kara's glasses. Kara shivers, but doesn't resist, limp and pliant as a rag doll as Lena pulls the black frames away from her face.

 

Her shoulders are slumped- _defeated_ \- and her expression is hopelessly  _broken_ , but it is _her_. Kara Danvers is Supergirl.

 

Kara Danvers is Supergirl, and Kara Danvers is _bleeding_ when she _shouldn't be_ and Lena _knows_. Knows with a sinking feeling in her chest as she fights back the rising bile in her throat at the sudden realization that her family is responsible for the pain of yet another person, for the suffering of yet another soul.

 

The sheer despondence in her cobalt eyes is enough to confirm Lena's theory without words. Lena shudders, hands fisting at her sides as she takes in Kara's battered appearance and resists the urge to scream, to break something, to run outside into the building storm and hunt her mother down and attack her with nothing but her bare knuckles.

 

Kara rolls up her sleeves to reveal matching purple bruises staining the creases of her elbow. "She took my blood." Her voice is soft, fragile, as though she can't quite believe the words herself.

 

"She took my blood," she echoes, fingers twitching as though searching for something to grasp, something to hold, "and I don't know why."

 

There it is again, the frightening emptiness shining in Kara's eyes as she begins to retreat inside herself. Lena won't let her- _can't_ let her- and before she knows it, her hands are cupping the other woman's tear-stained cheeks- Kara's skin has never been this _cold_ , and the pure, unadulterated desperation that floods Lena's veins finds its way into her tone as she forces Kara to meet her gaze and _begs-_  

 

"Look at me, Kara. Look at _me_."

 

But the Phantom Zone is calling- _mocking_ \- and Kara finds herself unable to resist its pull.

 

Lena's mouth is shaping words- _her name?_ \- but the ringing in her ears drowns out everything else as something inside of her crumbles and the gates around the abyss open, unleashing a voice she had hoped to have long-since outrun. But the symbol that has been emblazoned across her chest since birth has only ever given hope to everyone _around_ her. Everyone _besides_ her.

 

_Come back to me, Kara zor-El. There is no place in this world for you._

 

_There is no place in this world for **you**._

Kara opens her mouth and _laughs._

 

The sound is high- breathless and hysteric and downright _terrifying_ to Lena's ears.

 

Her surroundings give one last, dizzying lurch, and 

 

everything

 

goes 

 

  
_black_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a review, house a displaced alien from a dead planet.
> 
> (Really. Reviews are love. FEED ME, SEYMOUR.)
> 
> Is anyone else terrified by the Phantom Zone or is that just me?
> 
> I'll go sit in my corner now and wait for you to scream at me for doing this to you. :)


End file.
